


Win

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis and Prompto lose at the arcade.





	Win

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Inspired by me misreading the above prompt: any two bros are doing some sneaky recon. Someone is about to catch them, so bro A grabs bro B and starts making out with him, to pretend they were just trying to find a place for a hookup rather than spying. Both bros are more into it than they expected to be.” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=10681146#cmt10681146).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Noctis blasts a green hole through the alien’s gelatinous chest before Prompto’s even registered its presence on the screen. It _should_ be the final one—the black pixilated ship in the background has all its windows empty—but then another ship drops in out of nowhere, even though Prompto could’ve _sworn_ there were only supposed to be five ships in the third wave. A dozen aliens pour out at once, and Prompto pulls the fake trigger on his plastic gun with expert precision. He takes out every moving thing on his right, while Noctis handles his left. But he runs out of ammo before the game runs out of aliens, and when the nearest giant slimeball lifts its blue ray-gun, Prompto has no recourse. In the corner of his eye, he can see Noctis frantically clicking at it too, but it’s no good—their guns are drained. The alien sneers and shoots, and a white _Game Over_ flashes across the screen.

Prompto could almost throw his gun right at the console. It’s tethered by a thin cable and probably wouldn’t do much damage, but he restrains himself anyway. After the rush of the alien invasion, it takes a second for his heartbeat to slow back to normal. Taking a deep breath of the arcade’s warm and stifling air, Prompto glances at his friend.

Noctis is staring at the machine, halfway between thoughtful and glaring. They’ve lingered long enough that initial after-school wave has died down, and there’s no one waiting in line to try their luck. After a long minute of nothing, Prompto asks the unthinkable: “Do you think it’s rigged?”

He half expects Noctis to snort, but instead, Noctis deadpans, “It has to be. We’re too _good_.”

They are good. They’re the perfect team—they know just how to work in tandem, and they’ve gotten to the point where they can go a whole match without saying a single word and still have each other’s back at every turn. When they play against others, they always win in a landslide. It’s just against the computer that they can’t seem to get ahead. And they’ve been practicing all week. By now, they should’ve made their money back and then some. Instead, they haven’t got a single gil to show for it.

With Noctis’ royal bank account behind them, the money doesn’t really matter. It’s all about the pride. And Prompto can see that the machine’s deeply offended Noctis’. Finally, Noctis looks up and glances down the line to where the prize-booth is. There’s one ragged-looking man behind the desk, at first facing them, but he quickly looks away when they look over. Noctis glares a little harder. Then a woman in the same silver uniform comes up to tap his shoulder. She nods towards the back, and the man followers her, weaving past the claw machine. 

Noctis drops his plastic gun and mutters, “We’re gonna find proof.” He doesn’t look back to see Prompto’s wide eyes. He just starts walking, and Prompto hurries to follow.

“Are you serious, Dude?”

“Yeah. I don’t like being screwed over.”

Prompto lowers his voice as they pass a group of giggling girls at a pinball table. “What if we get caught...?”

“We won’t.”

“But—”

“What’re they gonna do, throw their prince in jail?”

The two workers stop in the very back corner, almost completely thrown in shadows, tucked behind a maze of old photobooths. Noctis sidles into one, tugging Prompto with him. It doesn’t have a curtain to hide them, but it is angled just out of sight. Noctis leans against the back to listen.

“...Just thought it would be a good idea,” the man’s saying, in a low mumble that makes it clear he’s been chastised. “If the boss doesn’t like it—”

“The boss _does_ like it,” the woman cuts in. “That’s just the problem! He’s just thinking of the bottom line, but it’s you and me that’ll have to do all the cleaning.”

“But we’ll be eating popcorn during it! And we could even get themed flavours—”

“There’ll be butter on all the machines, you idiot! These kids don’t clean their hands before they touch our controllers—everything will be greasy—” She pauses mid-breath, and the two of them fall deadly silent. Prompto shows Noctis a frown—obviously, their futile attempt at spying isn’t going to uncover the true corruption of this place. Then they hear footsteps.

Even though they haven’t heard anything more important than normal workplace bickering, Prompto immediately tenses. _Noctis_ might have complete immunity, but _Prompto_ could still get kicked out of anywhere for being weird and creepy, and he’s sure the footsteps are headed for them. They’re going to round the corner at any second, and he and Noctis are just _sitting there_ in a turned-off booth very obviously eavesdropping, and maybe they’ll just get scolded or maybe they’ll get _banned_ —

Just as the very tip of the woman’s nose appears around the corner, Noctis smashes into him. Prompto blinks, frozen, because this is one move he _didn’t_ see coming. Noctis’ hand presses into his face, palm warm against his cheek, fingertips brushing into his hair. And Noctis’ _mouth_ is on him, even opening—Noctis nips at Prompto’s bottom lip while his other hand lands on Prompto’s waist. Prompto instantly forgets what’s going on outside their own little world. 

He practically panics when Noctis’ tongue nudges at his mouth, pushing forward, and then Noctis’ fingers dig into his hip and he gasps, opening up. Noctis tilts and slides _inside_ him. Noctis’ tongue sweeps over his teeth, so _wet_ , so _hot_. Prompto shudders and lets his eyes close. He can’t believed Noctis is _kissing him_. He wants to kiss back, but he’s too shocked and inexperienced and burning with embarrassment. Noctis pushes forward into him, practically grinding into him, lapping at the inside of Prompto’s mouth and stroking his cheek. Prompto eventually gives Noctis’ tongue a tentative suck, which has Noctis pressing harder into him. Prompto can’t breathe.

Somewhere behind them, he hears a woman mutter, “Never mind, it’s just some teenagers making out.” It takes him a second to remember who that is. And that she’s obviously left. Their cover’s not blown. Right. Noctis is just creating a distraction. 

Noctis still kisses Prompto longer than he has to, and when he does pull away, Prompto’s left lightly trembling from nerves. And sensations. His lips are still wet. He _kissed Noctis_. And he maybe-sort-of-definitely has been wanting that for _forever_ , but of course he knew it was doomed to be forever unrequited. Everybody wants Noctis. Prompto’s lucky enough that they’re friends. He’d just hoped his crush would eventually die. 

Noctis looks at him for a moment, not sparing a second thought to the people they followed. Prompto doesn’t care about them either. Suddenly, it was worth the machine cheating him out of all his gil. 

Then Noctis hesitantly leans forward again. There’s no reason for it now, but he brushes a chaste kiss over Prompto’s lips. 

Prompto practically tackles him. And suddenly they _are_ making out, their defeat very much forgotten.


End file.
